Anyone Else
by Kirari13
Summary: Takes place after the deaths of Ann and Zillah. Nothing, Molochai, and Twig have also skipped town in the pursuit of happiness. Ghost and Steve are on a road trip when a strong vision of Zillah causes Ghost to feel uneasy; Steve then begins to notice him.


**Hey, all! Kirari13 here, coming live from the confines of my dining room. This old computer is slow as molasses, but nonetheless, I carry on. *heroic stance***

**Now that the formalities are out of the way, I have a confession to make. I have never written anything Poppy Z. Brite-related before this, so if any of the characters seem out of character or something about the story itself seems odd to you, please try to understand my position. That being said, I do like how this first chapter came out. Hopefully you will, as well. :D**

**This story may not be exceedingly long unless it has a good fan following, in which case I will attempt to update with a sense of frequency... Please keep in mind that that probably won't happen. **

**The idea for this story was inspired by one of my favorite fictional couples: Steve and Ghost. I just hate how they don't actually get together until Arkady shows up, and I really dislike that pedophile. *shivers at the thought* And even then, they aren't truly **_**together **_**until Ann dies; talk about lame. Anyway, I decided to start typing this up out of love for Steve and Ghost; it is meant to be a lemon, but we'll see how that goes. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Lost Souls, **_**or any other novels by the incredible Poppy Z. Brite. I own only the obscure thoughts that traverse the outskirts of my mind. **

Chapter 1: On the Road Again

Steve laughed as the T-bird thundered down the gravelly roads of North Carolina. He and Ghost were on a road trip. But then again, when weren't they?

Ghost loved to hear Steve laugh. Ever since Ann died, Steve's behavior had become even more predictable than when he was sober, and this worried Ghost to no end. It was his saving grace when Steve was in good humor.

Wanting to stretch out the moment into oblivion, Ghost mimed swinging a bat over his head and softened his voice to an unrecognizable pitch. "I don't need this, you know. I could kill the both of you with one hand while I jerk off with the other," he quoted. **(1)**

There was a moment's silence before Steve burst out into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. The alcohol in his system was probably assisting this joke, but it didn't keep it from being funny. In his comedic stupor, Steve even let go of the steering wheel.

If Ghost had been of a violent nature, he would've smacked Steve upside the head. Anyone else would have done that, but Ghost didn't. His pale hands took control of the wheel long enough for Steve to recover from his uproarious bout of chuckles.

Mentally thanking Ghost—who replied with a grin—Steve regained his composure and praised his friend.

"Your impression of that green-eyed fucker is killer, Ghost! I could've sworn I was in the car with him instead of you for a second."

Ghost smiled wryly. "You mean Zillah?" he asked complacently. Ghost could usually avoid thinking about the deceased if he tried—then they would not plague his thoughts. However, Zillah was a different matter. Ghost himself had done the deed, which explained his newly restless nights. Again and again he dreamt of that night, of how the knife had slid so easily into Zillah's skull, of how the fire that had licked and spat ferociously at the irises of Zillah's eyes had finally been put out for good.

"Dude, what's the matter?" questioned Steve as he observed the pale figure beside him.

Attempting to hide his disdain, Ghost shrugged off his friend's concern. "It's nothing," he began, "don't look at me. Keep an eye on the road."

"Why should I? We aren't moving."

Ghost glanced around briefly at the stationary landscape before bringing his knees against his chest.

Without warning, Steve enveloped him in a hug.

Ghost's eyes widened as he was greeted by the comfort surrounding him. He inhaled deeply, and his breath mingled with Steve's. He would have been more than happy just to stay like this forever, but as usual, that bliss was just out of reach.

"Aw, shit, Ghost. We left the stove on."

"Spoken like a true poet," remarked Ghost as he internally rolled his eyes. Why did it have to happen _every single time_? Did Steve conveniently plan to shy away from Ghost whenever he showed affection for the other man? It was BS, and it was getting old.

On the outside, Ghost was as calm as ever, but unfortunately, the truth was not far from the surface. And yet, Steve was oblivious.

Ghost shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Steve had not yet started the car, and Ghost could feel his gaze. If Steve continued on in this way, Ghost was afraid he wouldn't be able to restrain himself any longer.

"What are you waiting for?" Ghost whispered. His voice was so shaken that it was barely inaudible.

The voice that spoke next was not Steve's. It was much softer, not nearly as gruff. This voice didn't seem to have any distinction at all. All of its words seemed to be mere echoes of words, as if no one had spoken at all. But still, the voice was memorable—in its own way. It would be difficult to forget an emerald-eyed vampire who drank chartreuse and sank his teeth into whatever caught his eye, now wouldn't it?

Zillah grinned serenely at Ghost from the driver's seat.

"Remember me, fair one? I certainly remember you."

At this point, Zillah's immaculate features began to shrivel and decay, until he was nothing but a grinning pile of bones.

It was a horrifying sight.

_It doesn't matter, _Ghost thought, _he'll just regenerate like before._

The skull's smile did not fade.

Curious, and more than a little afraid, Ghost poked the skull, which bit him.

"Ah!" Ghost exclaimed. When he drew his hand away, he saw that he was bleeding—not just a small amount, either. The red liquid was oozing down his finger in violent spurts, and Ghost felt all the pain.

"Make it stop," he pleaded. "Please, make it stop!"

"Ghost!" Steve bellowed, and Ghost snapped back into reality.

"Wait—what?" he asked as he verified his surroundings.

Steve's face was plastered with concern: concern for Ghost. He felt himself blushing. He was so lucky to have Steve by his side. He forgot that occasionally.

"Are you okay? Your face is beet red, and you were screaming in your sleep."

Ghost nodded slowly. Without hiding a thing, he said, "It was Zillah. He visited me in my dream."

Steve furrowed his brow, contemplating. Having decided, he started the car and turned it back in the direction of Missing Mile.

"What are you doing? New Orleans is the other way."

"Shit, Ghost. What would I want to do in New Orleans? Pay my respects to Ann—or what's left of her? No thanks. And after a dream like that, I'm not so sure you should be on the road. We're going back to Miz Deliverance's place."

"Steve," Ghost breathed. _Thank you. _

Steve glanced over to Ghost, who simply beamed.

Finding Ghost's expression unbelievably cute, Steve couldn't help but blush. "What," he announced gruffly, in an attempt to brush off his newfound feelings.

"What were you doing while I slept?" wondered Ghost.

Steve stared out into the abyss of the black gravel road before responding, "I was watching you. I love to watch your face when you sleep."

Ghost's face heated up then, a warm feeling enveloping his entire being. Today was a great day.

**(1) This is my absolute favorite quote from **_**Lost Souls**_**!**__**Out of all of the ones I could've picked for Ghost to imitate, I chose this one. That says a lot. XD**

**Alright, this seems to be a good stopping point. The next chapter will most likely contain the lemon, and there may possibly be more lemons after that. It all depends on reader feedback. So if you took the time to read this, please take the time to review it. Reviews are not only motivational, but also incredibly helpful. Oh, how I love them...**

**Thank you very much for reading. *makes a heart with her fingers***


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